La lingua de Katia

La lingua de Katia
The writings of a child from a thousand different parents

Sunday, February 29, 2004

The LiBrary is A Zoo & I'm a HiPPo!

I can't remeber the last time I blogged nor can i remember anything since Wednesday night. But I am going to attempt to put the pieces of my existence back together.
Wednesday- Started Orange county got fed up, watched the Truman Show. I think I made matt and I dinner, not sure though of the day. He is really fun to cook with.

Thursday- After Robbie took photos of me at the fountain, I was overwhelmed by the debate. ran into Mike. Sat in his lap while we watched the young and old scream their enthusiams. strange circus. Claire, has blue hair now. I met her in the begining of the semester when she had pink hair. She and i left Mike and I invited her over for tea. At home we ran into Dance Dance and then Steven walked in. We had a very elegant tea party and listened to a CD I found in a cereal box. "Rythme and Boo's--By Count Chocula" Claire left, then Dance and I can't remember the rest of the evening. It has come back to me! I went to Jordan's and Josh's and watched Naked Lunch. The film was incredible. i can't believe I have never seen it before.

Friday was a also a blur- I went to the Doctor, my results come back Tuesday I believe. I am kinda scared but I was really proud of myself ffor not fainting when Juanita the blood nurse took three precious viles of my essence. After I went and bought yarn because I promised to make Keri's gothic boyfriend a scraf for his 35th birthday. I haven't treated myself to lunch in a very long time. i usually treat other people but I wanted to take myself out on a lunch date. I sat at the counter eating Crispy honey chicken and reading my book. It was great fun.
I met up with Dance Dance we started watching Say Anything but matt called me and I ran down to his apartment...i am such a sucker. Dance locked me out when I returned 45 minutes later. hey we were just Dancing I told her! But she just giggled because I had missed the majority of the movie. Oh well what can you do? We started Willow next while we worked on our scarfs. I love Dancey so much. We talked about what a great mom she is going to become one day and I hope I know her when she is old and wrinkley...I love the fact that we get together and knit. what old women are we:0
Friday night I was such a groupy. I went to see Matt's band, Free for All play at this seedy dive bar. Hall is such my homeboy I love it. He got these fake clip on earings at the laundry mat and they suit him perfectly...so cool. Anyway Hall, Cindy and I started out for Johnny Foxx's and my car died. Mid run it just shut off, so I started it again and poof it shut off again, then again and again. MY CAR, MY PRECIOUS RAQUELL IS DEAD!!! So Cindy drove the gang and when we got there Alex Jester was drunk as hell. He kept leaning on me and wrapping his arms around my waist. Dammit Alex, I kept seeing Matt eye me and I felt bad. I really like him. he has a nice scent. He plays with his eyes closed. Cindy andI danced like maniacs, mostly to avoid Jester's advances. We went to the band's afterparty which mostly consisted of Steven Hall, myself, and Stacey( matt's friend who is visiting from out of town) and the band: Brian, Vic, Anthony and Matt. Brian kept poking me Vic was yelling something while Anthony head banged till no tomorrow. Matt drank gold alcohol while we all sacrificed our souls to the tecquilla underworld. I am trying to stop drinking, who am I kidding no I am not.

SATURDAY-FUCKING KING'S ROCK MY WORLD!!!
For those of you who don't know, I love hockey. I friggin' love it. My daddy, the best daddy in the world got 9th row tickets and I nearly lost my mind. When we were young we used to go to games all the time. Sophie Me Mom and Dad. So much excitment, I can barely contain it. i even got a free puck to add to the collection. I think my favorite current play besides Luke, G-D of the L.A is Avery. This guy is so small but he makes up for it with spite and fight.
After the game Daddy dropped me off. I needed sleep but i had to finish the scarf because we were going to go see The Last Dance play at Bar Sinister. TLD's lead singer is Keri's boyfriend and I wanted to give him the scarf. they were amazing as always. Andrew wore my oversized tan lion coat, a shirt that read, "spin my Dreidal and a pair of copper's glasses, Hall was in a black suite and black tie as well as a pair of clip on earinings, Myself I wore a micro mini, two different pair of tights a fake fur coat and a skull T- Shirt(i know hot) Mandy had a radio and a tiarra and Mary well Mary was drunk. We all drank gin before leaving the car which was not the smartest notion since I have a headache today but what can you do?

Finally we are at Sunday!!!
the library is packed, this guy came over to talk to this girl and they wouldn't shut up for the majority of the blog. He finally left so hopefully this blog will begin to make more sense. I actually got a full night's sleep last night! Can you believe it? I woke up this morning and made ANDrew and I breakfast; french toast, bannas, mangos and eggies. Andrew made the coffee and diced the nanners while I showed off by flipping the food up into the air. Unfortunatly we lost some of the egg, but what can you do?
Now Steven, Andrew and I are in the library, actually I don't know if they are still here indeed because I have been on the computer for what seems like an eternity. bloggy bloggy. Well it's not like I can do real work right?
Tonight Sophie and I are going to the Osbourne Oscar After party and I have no idea what to wear. Hopefully Steven with dress me.

There that is it blog, that is all you get... I am done, I need to read and it is already almost 4!

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

all I CaN Do iS WaiT

I really can't stand being interested in someone-my thought is broken when Nickola the Serb enters the house soaked.

Nick: I have two words for the rain, "rain sucks". IT sucks, I don't ever carry a fucking umbrella, it's fuckin California and what the, I don't know man...
He trails off heading upstairs, his mobile rings and he begins cursing in a foriegn tongue.

Back to me, I despise crushes. Ha I sound so seventh grade, but that is because I am! I feel trapped, like I can't go anywhere or do anything. I sit the living room waiting for him to walk by and wave in at me. This morning we walked to school. I cluched his arm even though we have only being seeing eachother for a week. I like to hold on to him. He is the first "real" ubbermale I have been interested in a while. As we separated, I off to ballet and finance for him he said, "oh time for me to peel off." Dance said it was cute but I was a little annoyed. PEEL OFF! See this is why I swore off people for this semester and I couldn't even do it. I need to come to terms with the fact that I am codependent or else I will never be able to be on my own. I mean it has been nearly four months since my last fling and that is pretty good for me. Four months that is pretty long right. Ok so I have a history of jumping from one bed to the other sometimes dragging the other boy's sheet behind unaware or rather apathetic. I just like having someone. It was silly, Lyndsey, Magdalenia and I were walking home from class today and I saw my ex boyfriend who was not waving to me but to Magdalenia. AHHHH he makes me so mad, but really I don't care. Magdalenia asked how I knew him and I was like he is my ex and she couldn't believe it because she was sure he was gay. Wonderful right? Yeah so I tend to go for artsey guys with skinny legs, fine features and unique style. They usually end up all being crazy or bi sexual. Yeah I really know how to pick them. This boy seems different though (how stupid huh?) no seriously, he is a business and bio major who wears a hat and plays the drums. He has facial hair that scratches at my face and smokless white teeth. I am annoyed I want him to come back from class and hang out with me. I wanna watch a movie on his futon and not be sitting in the stench that is my home.
I am currently reading The Day of the Locust and find it really amazing. Back to the book...where is he?

Converse she Will

Kate: G-D Damn.
Andrew: Kate!
Kate: Sorry Damn.
Andrew: Andrew did you just apologize to damn?
Kate: what? what did I say.
Andrew: You just apologized to damn.
Kate: I did?

Yep the above conversation solidifies the fact that I am losing my mind.
Currently I am alone in the hole(the couch). Andrew, not adorning his usual suite since he figures a sweater will better absorb the wettness that is our climate has left to pick up Mandy Kat. I forgot to mention that Steven Hall shaved off his mo hawk of three years is at the library and the rest of the kids, well damn if I know where they are. The rain, I love it don't get me wrong, but I am unable to leave the house because my windshield wippers can barely handle the slightest dribble. I am shocked that I am even recieving an internet signal because it is raining. Mike A just walked into the door.
Mike: Shit
Kate: Hey Mike
Mike: Hello
He has disappeared into the bathroom...

Earlier Andrew read me passages from Ulysses which I thought rather funny since we were discussing James Joyce himself in class today and when I returned home he was in the hole reading it.
Jane walked in wearing 5 inch patennt leather boots, tights and a tight fiting coat. Jane is Russian and between her thick accent and my bad hearing we have developed a wonderful realationship. Here is our conversation...
Kate: Where are you off to baby?
Jane:Don't know
Kate: What?
Jane: Don't know, what are you up to today
Kate: homework
Jane: Oh does Mike have Singing in the Rain, he told me he does.
Kate: what?
Jane: Singing in the Rain does Mike own it?
She shuffles through a drawer of movies.
Jane: Ooh my god he does, do you think he will mind if I watch it?
Kate: I don't know.
Jane: I will go ask him
She clops upstairs in her big boots then back down and out the door without saying goodbye. Yep those Russians. Never know what to expect

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Fell Under the Weight of a School Yard Crush

Listening to Bright Eyes...Hence the title.
Yeah I am pretty happy, yesterday I burned Matt a Cd with the help of my little friend Dance Dance Revolution 2006.
Andrew and Steven Hall are hell bent on moving to Thailand. I can't believe this. It makes perfect sense we could all move there and live in the provided teachers lounge and teach English in Thailand. You have to sign away your life for one year and honestly a part of me is really tempted. But it is Thailand. What the hell is in Thailand. I like the food but I hate cats and according to Andrew there are more Cats then People in Thailand. Crazy huh?
After my exam, I pretty much did nothing. I feel like I am in a rut bogged down by too much work but I go out far to often to ever catch up. Still haven't written that Death paper but last night I went to the most amazing place with Camillo and Caroline who were both on their cell phones when I got into the car. Camillo's conversation ended before Caro's and he lit up a cigarette and then told me that she was talking to her other boyfriend. I saw Caroline roll her eyes in the mirror. It is amazing the two fight back and forth like crazy. While we waited for the others to join our patent leather booth the two argued about ass hair. Why are they talking about this and better question how come I am writing about this? I think I am in awe over their total lack of filter. We drank beers and listened to blues and jazz. This woman named Mickey who was at least seventy sang over a band without the use of a microphone. She was incredible she walked through the audience gyrating her hips grabbing dollar bills from patrons. Her song went like this, "I got one leg in the east, one in the west and Ol' Mickey I am in the middle trying to do my best."
Outside a man with milky white eyes and dreads called me an angel. He looked me right in the eyes and said that my haircut was my halo. He called me little sister as he prophesies that I need not ever hope. He told me that hoping was not the answer that I just needed to do. He looked at me and his eyes watered as he delivered a message. My stomach hurt. I wanted to go home. I wasn't ready for the truth. I came home and called Matt. He was more or less asleep but he assured me that he had just moved to the couch. He is so funny he doesn't sleep in his own bed but on this futon of horror. It is really weird he lives in the apartment that my friends used to live in. We were once all inseparable and now I hardly see those boys, but I still see the futon that will continue to live in that apartment. Strange. I wanted to share my experience with Matt but once I went over there I was too tired for talking. I fell asleep on his chest while CNN talked on in the background. I woke up choked with thirst and disoriented. For a moment I had no idea where I was or whose arm was wrapped around me but I still felt safe. Here is a poem:
I was really proud of myself
this morning
He told me
a girl
was coming
to visit.
I am proud
Jealousy didn't lynch me
nor did I strangle him or
belittle my fellow female
No I told him
"Great"
Why am I proud?
Because I meant it
realizing I have no
thing to worry about.

No One Ever Suspects the Moron(revised)

Where to begin the rant? Upon consulting Dance Dance Revolution 2006, She taught me that Venom is not the answer.(simplified)
I'd like to sincerely respond to my critical readers. IF I wrote my story about a working class white family there would be no problem. If I was a black girl or a latina you would have kept your mouth shut. But I am a white girl. And white girls, we can only write stories about white folks or stories about black folks who undergo some injustice and emerge triumphant. Did you ever think that this was story about one family? I don't think that all southerns talk that way, neither do I think that people from the back east, the west or European countries all speak the same. The real question is who you saw speaking these lines in your head?
What would would fit me better? What do you want me to write about drugs? Do drugs interest you. Look at me, take a hard look at me and tell me what you think I should write about. Love? Romance? Heartbreak? Bad relationships? I am sorry if I don't belong to your elite. That I don't play it safe and write what I know. That I radiate stories of unconventional happiness. That I don't make one of the central characters obviously myself. Did that piss you off. That I took a risk while you wrote yourself. I think it is funny. We could make an experiment out of it. We could take an outsider, someone not in the class, bring them into our room where they would find all of the stories so far on the ground without names and I would bet top dollar that that person would be able to match the author to the person just by reading the story. IS this what we are suppose to achieve with our writings? Please tell me. Does this gain one praise? Yeah I know myself, I can write myself wonderfully but why would I want to share myself? Don't smirk I have nothing to hid. I am not bound to the page, and one day I will be successful in ripping myself away from the it completely.

Friday, February 20, 2004

Damn that is hot!
Ok so last night Matt and I went to see The Dreamers. His bio buddy said that it was really great so I agreed eventhough I had no idea what it was about. Ok so let me tell you, if you you like incest, soft porn and French food you will love this movie. I still can't believe the content and some of the images used in the film. I was so entranced and embaressed at the same time. I mean here I am in a dark theater with a strange boy in flannel watching some actor masturbate. I could feel my face turn bright red at moments and I just kept looking at Matt who giggled and shrugged his shoulders. Yeah so I did have a good time. It wasn't a date, he didn't pay, but insisted on paying for parking since I drove. On the way to the parking structure we walked side by side and turning down the alley I saw a man stumble and almost slip. Two more men slidded toward us and I instinctivly grabbed at Matt's arm. On of the men's legs flew out from under him and he landed on his back. Some idiot had empted what appeared to be cooking grease all over the alley way. Matt slide and I sturdied him. No grease stain is going to ride in my beautiful car. yeah I drive a volvo with a broken window, mirror, windshield wipers and tail light. Safety is very important to me. I really should get that stuff fixed.

We got back to the house and he was tired. I think he just got too excited from the movie and too nervous to come into my house. Ha ha I am so cruel. It was a really fun eventhough I talk to much. Either I am speech impaired or I cannot shut up. I kept saying in my head, let the boy talk woman, let the boy talk.
I did find out that his father owns a plumbing company and his mother is a nurse. They met when his father was working as a mechanic and she brought her car into get fixed. I thought it was a very sweet story unlike my parent's affair. Kate how did your parents meet? "oh well that is easy my father slept with his good friend's wife and she got knocked up with me. Yeah I guess I have always been a homewrecker." One thing that I have accepted in my life is that if something wants to be wrecked it will.

Thursday, February 19, 2004

So a lot has happened in the past 24 hours. I don't where to begin, I am hungover. I went out with three Serbian lifters last night to a club opening. Fun Fun I scored more numbers then these golden gods. It was really great since Bozzidar hs been buggin me about my hair. He watched in awe as every fine little filly marched up to me and petted my hair. By the end of the night he made a new rule. KATCHA, YOU ARE NEVER GETTING RID OF THAT MOHAWK!!!
One the same note, I was asked out by a girl in my english class today, yeah I guess Spring fever is really in the air. I told Steven and Mike A what happened and they just laughed.

On another note, I ran into Matt(the drummer) on my way home. He had a grueling day of job interviews and was going to work off his "rage". I was swinging a golf club at the time while wearing some crazy outfit and I had to explain that I was in a mini photoshoot for a friend. It is weird posing for pictures. I don't know, I hate admitting that I modeled for years. I just didn't have a very good experience and then when I kicked my little habits, I gained my current weight(a whopping 125) the agency freaked out and told me if I wanted to do this I had to go back to 115 max. The thing is I thought I looked really ugly when I was really skinny. I get nervous exercising because I just can't keep weight on.
Anyway, Matt is very kind or so it seems, I don't know him very well but I know that he has two younger sisters. Side note, I think men with sisters are better to their partners. Oh well we are going to see a movie maybe when he gets back from his run. We seriously stood in the walkway for 15 minutes figuring out how long before we could meet up later. Well if I am going to work out till 5:15 and then drive to the beach to run 8 miles, probably will take me and hour and a bit then drive back to USC, ok I will see you at 8. Yeah he is pretty hansome. Brown eyes, brown hair that is always under a hat and a permanent 5 o'clock shadow. I sound like such a dork, but that is because I am. I am nervous that we are gonna hang out this weekend to much since we already made plans to roller skate together tomorrow. What am I doing? He is a business and bio major who wears a ton of USC garb. My last boys have been so artsey and maybe I just want a manly guy.
Dance was very very extremely sweet yesterday, I listened as I confessed my new inkling. Poor girl. No she just held me and we talked about her future wedding. I can't believe it, she has been with her boyfriend this entire year and he lives in Hawaii and I can't even keep a boy for longer then three weeks. It always ends before three weeks. So Dance began missing her boyfriend and I well whatever we took an adventure to Hustler and bought new panties. I even treated myself to a new pair of tights. Gosh why do I love such trashy stuff?

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

I am waiting for joanna to beauty herself. We were suppose to leave 15 minutes ago. I hate waiting. Anyway she discovered this beautiful baby of a boy in this resturant and tonight she is going to shamelessly hit on him. She asked me if I wanted to go and it was like I don't even have a choice do I. This is gonna be really funny, especially if he is not working tonight. Why the hell am I so cruel? I don't know. Hey I did do something nice today. I was walking to school and I saw this poor girl struggling with all this film equipment and I asked her if she needed help. And she said, " you made my day." Imagine that, something so simple made someone so happy. I still haven't done my death paper. Dang.
I did something really stupid, I asked him out to the roller rink. I am so embarressed even though he agreed and said it would be cool. I don't even think it is a date. I will not approach it like a date. Oh who the fuck am I kidding, I am an emotional retard with too much time on my hands. I just want to obsess and baby someone...
Steven and Andrew are in the living room as well and Andrea just made coffee but they are out of milk so Steven poured in some whiskey...yep those are my boys.

Re: The Great American Novel
Why are you wasting my time? This story was rushed, vague and for the first one and half pages I have no idea what you are talking about. "Society hasn't helped much either. They've systematically destroyed all hope." Who is they? Who is this narrator? Ok I understand that they are cynical and bitter but again you create this voice that doesn't seem to articulate athority. Are you trying to be funny? This seems more like a stand up bit or a blog entry rather then a story. Again you create a detached intro, slab it onto the story for what pupose I don't know and then don't turn in an ending. Did you want to piss me off? Is this the point of your exercise?
Ok I ranted now lets turn to the positive where I can urge you to expand certain moments in your text. I really liked on page three when he realizes that his flirtiness is pointless. The coffe bit is interesting but I think you should take out that line, "But habits are hard to break." This seems redundent and an obvious statement. I know I am being nit picky but I genuinly feel that you could get rid of several short sentences, you know trim the fat, because they don't add to the story. It you are worried that this will decrease your paper in length just fill in some detail. I WANT DETAILS! Also I wondered if you considered making John older. I think if you made him in him out to be in his mid thirties the story would take on a higher level of desperation for a connection. I mean 23, is just not that old. I didn't find John that interesting to be honest. I would be curious to have you write about Mr. And Mrs. Dudley's relationship. Here is another idea Maybe give everyone's point of view except for the main character John.

Keeping with the theme of incompleteness, I read the Art of Memoir and I didn't like it nor did I feel like the story came full circle. I was surpised by the reactions to Cabaza and who our class is amazing at finding the literary flaws in the narrative and I am really trying to be more critical now. I interpretted that Blew's life was life quilt of experiences and that her writing is reflective of this. She takes scraps from her sensationalized past and interweaves them into something new. Bravo. I could careless. Maybe I am heartless for not sympathizing with her father's death and husband's disease. I just didn't care and I felt almost bored reading her telling story. That is terrible to admit I know but honestly there is too much summary. Maybe I am an idiot and am not familiar with this author's work but why should I care about the students who, "often ask, what can you decently write about other people? Whose permission do you have to ask?" And I am thinking in my head, "Who cares?" That is my question for the week.

Re: For the first time.
The work seemed more like a screenplay then a short story. It almost seemed fomulaic(is that spelt right? Probably not) There is the man guy and his two friends, one is his brother but honestly I couldn't tell the two of them apart. They almost seemed interchangable. I felt that by the end of the story I didn't really know who they were but I guess that was the point because the main guy felt that he didn't know them or himself anymore. I really felt that this pice could of capitalized on the superhero aspect. I mean a mother calling a group of boys to protect her slut daughter is so ridiculous but it seemed that Jeff was torn between making it a farce or a drama. I think that you can mix the two, if you know your characters. I didn't really understand the point of the story. I felt that you were trying to create a moral piece but I just didn't feel anything by the end. I didn't understand why the main guy acted like such a doofus with the Audrey lines. He just seemed like an ass and I didn't care if he got his feelings hurt in the end. Whoever uses those lines should feel pain. Just kidding.
The main concern I have is why they were trying to save their virginity. The more I think about it, this piece would work better if you made it completely ridiculous. Give them costumes and code rings and Virgin wireless phones. I liked the song titles, but half the time I didn't think you needed them. Also it reminded me to much of high fedility(sp).
The story seemed tainted eventhough its intent was to reveal innocence or so that is what I percieved. I didn't like the girls in the story. They were rather two dementional and it made me question the main character's sexuality. Hmmm is this man gay? I don't know. I don't have the answers.

I am annoyed, I feel like the majority of the work(including my own) has been rushed. That everyone is writing or recycling stories in order to get it done.

So last night I painted my face with mascara and became very hermit like in my room. I think I worried Andrew and after he dropped Mandy Kat off, he knocked on my door. I was drunk in my loft and he started strumming his guitar, luring me from my cave.
Katia, "Hey bambino!:
Andrea: "Katcha it's time to get out of bed, come and have a sigaretta con me."
I stumbled down the little wooden ladder.
Katia: "I was reading"
Andrea: "Oh"
I grabbed the nearly empty vodka bottle and he helped me into the living room.
Andrea: So Katcha, what is the plan tonight.?
Katia: I don't know.
Andrea: You painted your face.
Katia: Yeah I guess.
Andrea: we go for a walk no? Wash your face we walk.
And with that Andrew appeased all of my venom.
We walked down 29th street and decided we should go for an adventure. So we headed towards Amoeba and when we got there I had sobered up a little. We couldn't find the CD we needed to listen to so we bought The People Vrs Larry Flint. I don't know what possesed me to buy this movie. Andrew kept saying it is your money Katcha. But i didn't care it was only 4.95. A must buy. When we returned home we polished off a bottle of Bacardi 151 and a half a bottle of wine. We probably would of attacked the Jack but you just can't drink Jack without Steven. I saw our neighbor Matt walk by our window and I chased him down.
Kate:Hey you wanna watch the rest of a movie?
ANd to my surprise he agreed. After the film ended Andrew headed to the library and Steven watched over me like a father. Matt went to leave and I waled him out. I didn't want to go to bed yet and we ended up talking, and then I lured him into my room by showing him my cartoon. We just stood in my messy room and talked for two and a half hours. About nothing at all. We exchanged numbers and he promised to take me to the studio. Ok fine, I have a little thing for him but it is only because he is a drummer and I find it fascinating that he is going to run the L.A marathon. I am pissed at Joanna because I was hesitant to talk to him because she told me he was a complete stoner which I found out to be not true. He is just really quiet. It's funny because Joanna thought a complete drug addict when she first moved in. She was like who the hell is this psycho living down stairs. Ok so maybe I had a little problem. But I have completely sobered up, I don't even smoke pot anymore. I do regret getting into drugs. It is one of my biggest regrets. Ok back to the postitive. I think I might invite Matt roller skating on Friday night to World on Wheels. It is the coolest place to go. There is a bar upstairs and a bowlinag alley and the most diverse crowd since it is in Crenshaw, Venice area. I don't think he likes me though. I hate my hair right now, how could anyone be attracted to the girlhawk. I just keep rubbing my scalp in an attempt to stimulate follicle growth...

Monday, February 16, 2004

I can't breath.
I haven't really slept this entire weekend and I feel terrible. More physically terrible then anything else. I worked so much this weekend. Today is my first day off and I have to go and visit Sophie because she is reacting poorly to her medication. I am behind in all of my classes. I just need a week a little vacation. I haven't smoked for 4 days and I want to go home but I know that I will smoke if andrew and steven are there. So i am hiding out in my parents house. My brother just left to Santa Barbra. I have so much fun with him. Yesterday after work we went for a hike even though I was exhausted and Last night on a whim we went and saw Butterfly Effect. I got so freaked out I couldn't sleep. I hate horror films. I hate the fact that Keri asked me to knit her boyfriend a scarf for his birthday, doesn't she realize I don't have any time? I am casting a new project. I don't really want to do it but I feel like I have to. The director is a friend of mine and he has been developing this short for the past 4 years. The thing is that the project really hasn't evolved in the past few years. I think he needs to move on. I just want to sit in a white room, with a poster of Marcello and write. I don't want any more things. I apologize for my stream of conciousness but I need to get out all of my anxiety before I loose my breakfast. I can't breath. My arms feel numb. I don't want to finish school. I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to drink or smoke or think about drugs. I feel really guilty lately. I want to go roller skating. I haven't called any friends back. I want to hid in a cave and rot away out of existence. I hate making friends. With each new friend there is responsibility. I can't save anyone yet all of my friends need help. Sophie is bedridden, They think Keri has diabetes, Dance is having a nervous breakdown about her boyfriend and financial situation, I can't think about this right now. I think this is why I am drawn to guy friends. I am too egocentric. My problems are not rare. I am not special, I am not a unique and beautiful snowflake. I can't breath. I am freaking out and I have to be at Sophie's in 10 minutes. I need to buy cards that say I am sorry and mail them out. I need to get rid of this guilt, this suffocating weight.

I HATE MY FUCKING STORY. I don't want to be an english major. I hate books, I hate reading, I hate writing. I hate.

Re: Cabaza
Bloody Brilliant. The details are beautiful and the mother character is fantastic. The fact that she knows she is weirding out her familiy and enjoying it is brilliant. Her daughter is a jerk...ok I need to calm down and come back to this. Maybe my mom will give me one of her Zanaxes

Friday, February 13, 2004

Response to: 99%
Assuming this is a character piece, the characters seem underdeveloped. I think a potential problem is that names are just thrown into the story and serve a very insignificant purpose. I understood that she was trying to create an environment of friends that show it doesn't matter who you are if you are in a relationship it is going to end badly. I didn't understand why Ash brought up the Tyler story. It seems that if Oz and her are that close he would be clued in already. Why did she like Tyler in the first place? I didn't buy that they were living together in freshman year of college. It just doesn't make any sense unless they moved in together their second semester and that would probably mean breaking the rent contract.
I think that she might want to revise some of the dialogue. For instance, "I've just been avoiding romantic interludes."
I don't understand why she says that Wade doesn't know she exists. They have worked together for a long time and I he obviously gets nervous around her.

A bunch of people just came into the house intoxicated and have distracted me...I will finish this later.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

La recerche des garsonnes perdus(memories of boys past)
I had to erase the list. The maajority of those boys are not worthy of the blog. I feel that ever since I put their names on my form, the blog has been corrupted. I need tp dp my assignments, but I never know what to write.

Andrew drank a bottle of wine and I am the one in AA...typical.
Andres de Baequerre here, Andrew Barker's doppelganger (there's some German for you). My favorite euphemism for sex: riding the ovarian trolley. (Thank you, Kate - she just ashed my sigaretta for me) Express yourself, don't repress yourself. I didn't know we were talking about...
(S. Hall ashed onj his pants)
in my defense, i didn't realize it until i was told so. Not that that constitutes any sort of defense, but there it is anyway. Kate's cheating at darts and we're not even playing.
Andrew: Kate just said: "I was running to show off that Serbian porn, and some boys cat-called me, and it felt so good." Baby's got a secret indeed.
You took me by surprise!!!
Yeah so I learned to love myself since I am working on V-Day even though there is this way awsome show I wanna go to. Unfair but I need i solidi. Andrew bought two bottles of wine for the weekend and they are both gone. The serbs won't let me come over unless I wear my wig:(
Andrew YET again: I am neither for nor against, and I do not explain myself because I hate good sense. Kate's dancing again, and she looks kinda like an emphesemic polar bear with skates on, if you know what I'm saying (nudge, nudge). He who lives in a glass house should not kill two birds with one stone. Kate: what's Argentina given us? Other than stray dogs, I mean. What are they singing about - poverty? I hate poverty. Hello cheese - 'don't eat me,' you say? The Serbians have a red light in their bathroom. Fucking Serbs - first Bosnia, then Kosovo, now us, when will it end? Fucking savages (Andrew is then mauled by a wild pack of Serbian boars - typical).
rubber baby buggy bumpers...
no really, andrew has a point and so does kate about the zippo i'm holding in my mouth. we've now sent her on a wine procurement expedition to the upper regions of our house (aka joanna's room) where there is always wine, but joanna thought she wanted a diet coke, and now i can't hear what they're saying. i can't stop laughing and as a result things are making too much sense to write nonsense, but that doesn't make any sense..... but now we have chilled merlot!!! it's freezing. andrew was accused of drinking two bottles of wine but one of those bottles was me, not him, and now we're warming the bottle next to andrew's crotch and kate doesn't want anytihng to do with it because she is his mother.
Andrew: Vasto! How are you, you syphilitic bastard you?
Kate: Here Andrew, put this wine in your armpit...it'll be French wine. A toast...to Fascism!
There's no greater power then the power of goodbye.
Ok, so we ran out of wine and the boy's sacrificed me to Joanna. I begged, I teased, I got down on my knees. (perfect) and she donated a bottle of chilled merlot...what the hell, who in their right mind chiils merlot? Not me I learned at a very early age never to mess with mommy's vodka...
Andrew: Oo menya yest kolbasa bolshaya (for you Russian-speakers out there). C'e' l'ho un cazzo grandissimo. (Kate just broke a wine bottle - che scema - M. Vasto is looking on with vague envy, saying: "is that Serbian porn? And why do we have it on our table?"
Kate: But do you see this woman's tits?
Stevie: They're bigger than your head.
Kate: They're bigger than HER. But she's drinking milk, so it does a body good. Eww, she's got milk dripping down them (her tits).
Steve-O: Maybe she's just lactating.
Oh yeah, so it goes and Hall has no comment...typical.
Posty posty

Jane and I dressed up like sexy minxes and took photos. It was really fun but kinda cold. Andrew just meowed from upstairs

Kate:Do you have anything to tell the blog?
Andrew: Um, ah, ahhhh, um. I love your hair(as he puts in a Madonna CD)
Wow it gets real good. If Madonna killed the pope I could forgive her pretty quickly. I have given up my blog, it is now a communal form...I am drunk.
Kate: What else do i wanna say
Andrew: I thought it was a communal form, I don't know what you want to say.
Andrew Ancora: Have you listened to "Secret" lately? (Madonna that is). I mean, she says "happiness lies in your own hand." In your OWN HAND ("what kinda shit's this," says Kate, in a most trogolodytic manner) . ("I'm in love," says Kate in a befuddled stupor). But I mean seriously, isn't that sexy? The thought of madonna and that line causes an ontological crisis of sorts for me. Here's Steven ("Let my hands go where they want to" says Kate).
I never said that. says kate LIES, LIES, LIES, it's all lies! I just wanna meet some wealthy person devoid of a personality. It's hard.
Ecco Andrea: "I'm creating order for the blog" says Kate. What a hideous little Fascist she is! My God.
Viva la katia: What so now I am a Fascist, just because I am german and part goat people always assume the worst.
KaTE: Is it a small guy? Ohh I love it.

Yesterday in Trader Joes a man walked up to me and started singing. At first I thought he was retarded and rather sweet that he picked me out of the shoppers but then I realized he was just kinda cray. He sang to me a Bob Dylan song, Sad eyed lady of the lowlands.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

My walkman is still broken:(
In the library I am noticing a lot of people in suits for todays career fair. I'm in fishnets and a tiara, great just great.
There is the biggist doofus in the computer lab right now. He keeps paceing back and forth and then laughing with his friend rather loudly. Idiots

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

Oh the good ol radio.
So I have kinda screwed myself, the character I created for workshop belongs to another world and I don't really know where to take her.
I am so tired, I can't take it. I really should go to bed but I want to get this paper done. I am totally fucked for that death class. I never did the paper, what a shocker huh? I find it funny that I ended up in college. I don't think that education is for everyone. My dad and mom had a bet over how many months I would last in school and I did pretty well. My father made the mistake of promising that if I got accepted into another school I could transfer when my acceptance letter arrived from USC i was like Oh daddddy.
Ok so the main thing that I am struggling with right now is debating how intelligent to make this characters. I feel that if I portray them as well working middle class I will be judged since it is an African American family. As a writer I am automatically given a voice and an opportunity to reshapen common misconceptions. I feel that if I centralize on the unintelligent rather then portraying people in a positive manner I am just perpetuating the myth. I don't know I am delirious.
I started checking in on other classmates blogs. I was curious and the internet seems to be steady for the moment. I like nielsen's blog. It strikes me as funny and interesting because he is so formal with his writing. And he posts pretty frequently. I was really amused when Megan Hoover commented on my blog because she knew several of the key players displayed on my page. Speaking of players Mandy Kat got the most beautiful brilliant pair of rollar skates from the goodwill today. She was waiting for andrewski to get off work and just walked in to find her skates, that fit her perfectly. Only Mandy Kat could be that lucky.
Now we just need to fix Dance's broken skate and the gang will be reunited.
I hate my hair. I think I might just wear a wig for the rest of the week.
I am upset about Mandy Kat, she used to go to USC but her aid was suspended even though she is an amazing mind. I mean the girl is fantastic she is obsessed with cats, need I say more. I am so happy for Andrew and miss Mandy Kat. Tonight I had dinner with the serbs. Nikki and Bozidar bought me pizza and a huge diet coke. I was wired when I returned home and ranted on about my skateboarding childhood through the hills of Topanga Canyon. Also how my brother and I used to belay out of a three story window when my mother left us with a sitter. I puked on a babysitter once. It was her fault she gave me ice cream and I started jumping around when she put on one of my favorite tapes, "little shop of horrors" I was so hyper and then I was like blahhhhh. She was not amused. I thought it was hilarious but started crying anyway. I miss my little brother so much. I told him I want to live together and he just laughed, what a little asshole. He wrote a suicide note once and in it he said, "katie it will be alright." Do i really worry that much? It was funny I wrote out a will once(well several times) I want my toes to be cut off and mailed to different people who I loved through out my life.
These were my list of toesies from freshman year of college:
Parents, Matt(my lil bro), Sophie(my other half), Jaime(my sis), Keri(bellagothica), Leonardo Dantonni(my savior), Howard Leight(best friend from 8th grade), Reese (the boy i lost my virginity to), Nick D(long story) and the last one it goes with me. Weird huh?

Monday, February 09, 2004

Listening to Tom Waitts
Still haven't finished my Death paper and I just don't think it is gonna happen. Andrew is reading to Steven and I. Now we three giggle as Andrew apologizes for his little literary outburst. I am looking forward to my ballet class however I am not looking forward to prancing around at 8 am. Who ever signs up for ballet at 8 in the MORNING. I must be crazy. I got another haircut, surely in part do to the fact that I have so much work to complete. I must be an idiot. I wrote 12 pages for American Lit and turned in my paper friday. I wrote like 5 different poems this weekend and am half way done with my Death paper, ok that is a lie. I am not even close. It's not that I don't want to do it but everytime I begin reading, "How we Die" by Nuland I get too upset thinking about my parents to continue reading.
My mom has one wish, that I graduate from college with normal hair. As of today I have a mohawk. I have a sinking suspision that it is not going to go over too well. Ya know what is funny is that most people would think that I am trying to rebel against my parents with my outragous hair but the truth is I love my parents and the only reason why I am constantly fucking around with my do is because I am bored. I will lock myself in my room for several hours and emerge with different hair. Caitlyn my non existant housemate saw my new hair and just laughed, she was like well you have exhausted all possibilities of how to change it since it is so short. The I brought up the fact that I could always dye it. But then I remembered my promise, I am not even suppose to be cutting my hair or else it will never achieve "normal" status. But it feels so soft, like a little baby when it is so short.
Ok I got to get to bed, so I can wake up and prance around like a retard and wheeze from bad lungs.
I don't want to go to bed. I am not tired. I hate sleeping. I always feel terrible the next day when I wake up.
Tonight I invented the tortilla fritto burrito. Steven Hall calls it the FRITILLA. Long live malnutrition!!!
We came up with a new nick name for me tonight. Dr. Crazy. or formally Dr. Crazy Science.

Sunday, February 08, 2004

Listening to The Shins.

I have to write a paper on How to Die with Dignity by tomorrow and I haven't started nor do I have any inclination to think about the subject...hmmm maybe I should of thought about that before enrolling in Death 101g.
I noticed that several of my guy friends have begun to inquire about my present state. I am guessing that it has something to do with the holiday that is upon us. Well it is just a hunch. My favorite has been an email from my friend who is up in San Fran. I wonder how his girlfriend would take his letter. I have never met her, but I do wonder. Below is the email I recieved last night at 3:17.

hay love, beautiful, sweet hart, you, what is the
hapining with you, i miss the rants a la kate, and i
miss you more, im sorry i didnt find enuf time for us
to scoff at the commons this wenter past, but time
again sall come, any way i just downed a half bottel
of the ol wild turky cause im depressed as all get the
fuck out and i coulndt turn muy coamputear opff with
again without having emailed you, so do please please
please write back, or else ill have to call you, which
perhaps i sahll any way,
love John

Isn't it sweet being loved or at least feeling needed? I wrote him back quickly urging him to pick some flowers for his girlfriend and to make her a card for V-Day. Hopefully he will refrain from calling and so far he has. I don't think I have mentioned it but I have taken a vow not to date this semester and I have never been happier. Isn't that selfish:) I just want to be alone and by being alone I mean I just want to be with my friends. I am fortunate to be working of V-Day so at least I will profit from man's desire to lavish romanticism on their partner. It really is ironic that I work in a restuarant that radiates love, where everyone wants to be taken and adored for valentines and I am so hopelessly out of love. Yep, I find it funny. What I don't condon is those chaps who say I don't need no stupid day telling me to get my girl flowers. I always then ask them, well when was the last time you got her flowers and they never can answer it because they never do it. Personally I adore flowers. I love their frangrance and beauty that I can watch wilt away. Sometimes the most beautiful flowers are the dead ones. Oh how goth right? I dated this one boy. The story with him is he was seeing this other girl and when I came into his life she sort of faded away. He couldn't stand her but he stuck by her side for a whole year because she was weak and he was worried about hurting her. He met me and I was more pathatic, well in a different way of course but regardless he left her and saved me. The thing is and I am going to return to my point is that she would give him these really stupid and tacky gifts and he was like, she doesn't get me at all. He threw away all the expensive crap but kept one thing and that was a dried rose. The one perfect gift a single long stem rose that he absolutly cheerished and held onto. Sometimes I wonder if he still has that rose. I think of him often,usually to the point of tears and can only pray that he is happy. The thing about true heartache is that it never goes away or at least I hope it never goes away. I will always have a soft spot for him in my heart even though we only dated for a few months. I don't think time really matters. It is my feeling that those truely amazing people who dance through your life, that you thank your lucky stars for meeting are the reason for living. Eventhough I can be a tad negative, it is part of my act, I would love to be positive enough to make an impression on someone and they could feel an ounce of my happiness, the same happiness and joy that has been my experience with knowing certain people.

Currently, I am still in my pajamas and no it is not because I am hung over. I should really start with Friday nights agenda sinc I haven't been blogging. Tears came to my eyes as I watched Marcello Mastroianni dance around Anouk Aimee in 8 and a half. I love that movie so much. I had a boyfriend once, a man I attribute every success I ever had to because he saved me from wasting away and I don't know if I loved him because he reminded me so much of Marcello or if I love Marcello so much because he reminds me of my Leonardo. Any way Friday I dressed the part of the ring leader and riled the troops together, Steven(as always), Andrew, Mandy Kat and Vasto all piled into the Volvanator and off to the New Beverly we went.
After the movie, no the film, THE FILM I was so inspired I came back and wrote out my first draft, short story for fiction. Well that is after I let Jane read my Tarot. From the deck I pulled a card that reflects where I am in my life at the present. The Devil, yep I pulled the Devil, out of all the cards. Great just great. Well the rest of my fortune was pretty dead on but i can't share it because it is personal and bloggy don't get all my secrets.
Yesterday Dance and I went to the beach and brought a picnic. We were attacked by seagulls who chided us with squaks. I chased them a away and crumbled in the sand out of breath, I took a nap instead of reading my book or writing my philosophy paper that is due Monday.
Last night Dance and I went to my parents house to visit with my brother who is in town from Santa Barbra. He made us all dinner but the visit was cut short when my parents went to bed and Dancce and I departed to Culver City. My friend is producing a movie in Canada. So we threw her a going away Candian themed party. Everyone wore red or white and danced under streamers that dangled from the ceiling fans.
We came home just shy of midnight. I had forgotten that I did laundry that morning and found my room decorated with damp clothing drept from my loft and over chairs. I reorganized my folders then headed for the loft. The pig head story put a smile on my face and I wrote another poem.

I come from the blue collar line.
Granddad was tabacco.
Made from tire skin,
he kept a patch of carpet
to keep his thoughts warm.
I didn't like him.
In his house lived a beast,
A bear that had been pealed,
plastered to the wall.
At night the creature whispered
then groaned,
"Hey little one, unhook me, set me-"
The Bear's alive, I scream.
Grandad came with wrentch in hand.
Bash the Bear,
Down dead again.
Bugs of dust flew
forth from matted hair.
I saw the animal's carcass.
His marble eye was cracked.
Granddad was hovering malt.
A hickup frolicked-
Time to swing that wrench again!
Batter up,
but missed
accidently, connecting, my ankle cracked.
My yelp sprung out,
the crowd goes wild
Deliver them a double hit.

THE FREEZING FAG
Good morning.
Last night I slept in two pairs of pajama pants, leg warmers, socks, a tank top, a t-shirt, a long sleeved thermal and a sweater. Ok so that means that Kate probably sleeps on the ground with a single blanket right? No I have a bed people! And I sleep under a sheet, an electric blanket, a really thick blancky and a massive down comforter so then why the hell am I always freezing when I go to bed and when I wake? Maybe I have poor circulation, because I just feel crazy sleeping with this pleathora of excess in California.

I apologize for the lack of luster in this blog. I am tired and cold and I have to turn in a paper by 4:30. I am trying to warm up my brain with the blog, but, I have a sinking suspition that it is not working.
How can I possibly type at a time like this? I went to the studio last night and clancked away at the kit. When I drove Greg and I back last night my arms resembled jelly fish tenticles.
Greg works for a documentary company for VH-1 and he asked me to be in this weekend's shoot, "Totally Gay 2". I don't want to be on this, I knew I should not have cut out my braids...great.

Thursday, February 05, 2004

Ten Blocks for my Blog:
1. Technical problems, i.e the computer will not turn on, the printer refuses to print or the amount of electrical potential energy is too great to run the system and the power in my room goes out.
Solution: Write out everything by hand and type it at the library.
2. Too lazy, cold or scared to leave the house at night to get to the library.
Solution: Use a friend's computer or call a cruiser.
3. Easily distracted by rollerskating or playing the drums.
Solution: Designate a time for rolling around like a nimrod. The drum kit was recently confiscated so that is no longer a problem.
4. Too social. For instance tonight there is a movie party in Topanga, Friday day is Sophie's and my weekly adventure. Friday night 8 1/2 is playing and we are all gonna go see it then after there is a party that my roommate is throwing. Saturday night there is a going away party for a friend moving to Canada and Sunday I wanted to go hang out my sister and see a show because I have neglected her recently.
Solution: Become a hermit?
5. My homework priority interfers with my creative writing. I feel guilty about working on a piece that is not for school.
Solution: I need to realize that the they are two different types of writing.
6. I am insecure about my spelling.
Solution: Use the dictionary more frequently.
7. Caffine. Sometimes I drink so much tea or coffee that I get far to hyper to sit still and write.
Solution: Cut back on caffine.
8. Playing dress up (as Steven Hall calls it "the human Barbie doll" phenomenon). I will be working and I will get an idea for some wacko outfit and then I will just have to play with makeup and material. This could explain why my hair is different for every class.
Solution: channel creativity towards work.
9. The Simpsons
Solution: No, I refuse to give up this vice.
10. Dating issues.
Solution: Yeah, I don't even know how to tackle this one. I have sort of made a vow to not date anyone this semester. So far it is smooth sailing and I have not been tempted yet(well maybe just a little but NO be strong!!!)

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Response to Big Men.
Wow Lynn is on the Altoid diet too! I loved this little detail because it resonated with something so engrained in my daily routine that I could actual see this as being a real woman. At the same time this lady really pissed me off, I kept thinking why on earth is she with him and I hate these type of weak willed women who know that they are being treated wrong but they ignore their lover's faults. It is worse then a foolish woman who is too naive to see her circumstance. I think that is why I liked this piece, there was a lot of action and a character that frustrated me. There is some definite sass beneath this piece, I enjoyed when she smiled, "he would have to spend the whole day getting that off tomorrow" when he drives through the dust. I didn't think that it was necessary for the woman to die. I mean understand the point of the piece, the women are the silent voices of reason and victims resembling modern day Eves. I am still not sure if I like the Eve parallel a part of me likes how the sharp the language becomes yet at the same time I fell that the Eve image is overused. I don't know, I will have to sleep on it.

A now a brief moment from the Ellendale house theater
Joanna who is now screaming from the upstairs walked well rather slumped into the household earlier this evening. Her face a mess and hair frizzed from the rain, she stops just shy of the living room. Vasto is in command of the red chair but he is no longer recognizable to his flatmates because of a recent haircut and long overdue shave. Andrew and Kate oblivious to Vasto, share a moment and a dinner consisting of freeze dried waffles, Lays barbeque chips (donated by Sophie's mom) while washing it down with stolen tea leaves. Joanna eager for attention, wails while clenching her tummy-
Joanna: My uterus hurts.
Andrew: (yelling) No! my uterus!
Kate: Uterus? Oh right I took mine out. It is His now, he calls it Terectomy, yes it is His Terectomy.
Andrew: Ha ha ha ha hah ah hahah hahah hah ahah hah ha hah ah
Joanna: muha ha ha muha ha humua
Vasto:What, what did she say. I don't get.
Andrew: Ha ha hah ha aha hah hd ha

Joanna whipes a tear from her eye and ascends upstairs, while Andrew and Kate lick their plates and Vasto scratchs his newly shaved head.

Hours pass and Andrew leaves to pick up Mandy Kat. Kate is forced against her will to venture out of the hole in the couch and meet her Tyler, who constantly bickers with her , that challenges her and her patience until she gets so goofy she looses her ability to formulate sentences. She returns home annoyed with only to find Mike A and Tamar screaming, well Tamar was not really screaming but rather slurping on her salad.
Mike A: BALLS! BALLS. Hey Tamar BALLS
Tamar: (sluuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrp)

Well Tamar disappeared, I wonder why, and Caitlyn took her place chatting it up with Mike A.
The rest of the events are rather borish.
Steven Hall is sitting in the other hole in the couch as Kate feverishly pecks away at his computer occasionally consulting Stevn Hall for spelling advice. Regretfully Steven's spelling ability is not what it used to be back in 96 when he was the allstate region Queen of the Spelling Bee. The title Queen of the Bee emotionally scarred Steven Hall and left him an emotional cripple who now takes solace in sporting a tandem mohawk, one patch is a greenish blue while the other resembles a faded red of a converse sneaker. Yes this house is so joyful, it's like christmas every friggin day of the year, just look at Hall's hair!

Late Response to LOVE LETTERS
This was pretty funny but Michael Nowinzcik was such an idiot. Why on earth would he mention his testicles in the first letter, or that Cindy had slept with the entire football team, etc. I mean he was so pathetic and Tim communicated his desperation excedingly well for creating this story in a week. Creating a narrative through a series of letters was very clever and I enjoyed reading the responses. However I didn't understand why the narrator had the letters to begin with and who was the voice on the telephone. Also the narrator has a silly tone as well "I would discover, when I went outside, that it was quite chilly. It was, in fact, well bellow the freezing point of mercury. Now that's cold..." I think that if Tim made Mike's and the narrator voice completely different, maybe make the narrator a woman then there would be a nice contrast. It was a little disconcerting that the piece did not end with the narrator's perspective/ his (her) reaction. I wanted to know more about Mike, for instance his age, physical appearence, occupation and family life. Obviously he is a loney man looking for love but maybe he is just in a really unsatisfying relationship. At this point I really don't know why he is writing these desperate attempts. Some of the responses seemed a little unbelievable as well. I didn't buy that Sally would comment on how "irresistable" she was and that she would send this potential psycho a family portrait. Also that Dr. Stirnbaum would tell Mr. Nowinzcik to "get a grip, and go see a shrink." I felt that Carl Cooper's letter contradicts the series of letters because she/he responded to him kindly, "you were the only guy in school that was ever really nice to me." I liked the fact that this was someone who remembered him but now I begin to wonder if he was such a sweet guy in high school, what went wrong? This piece is really a mystery and needs further developement.

Late Response to Finlay's Novella:
First I want a title.
I felt that she was trying to be too cool with her snappy narrative. I liked the fact that she wanted to create a flawed woman but I feel that she was glamorized. Finlay packages her as a woman not concerned with her looks (because that would indicate shallow behavior) yet the narrator does ndot fail to mention that she was pretty and with piercing eyes. Noel crititizes her friends and fellow women for their shameless efforts to snag a man yet she is seduced by the end of the segment. The narration sets sit up that the only ones in this city who date are the insane and desperate and I feel that this challenges the credibility of the characters. I mean obviously they want and are going to see each other again so does this mean that they are insane?. It would be a lot more interesting if the character was less bitter and more infatuated with her art. Ironically the art is never really mentioned. I must remind myself that this a longer work in progress but I was curious to know what this woman was taking pictures of since it is a subtle way to reveal who she is. Instead of consentrating so much energy on the "hipters" the "increasingly hip crowd" the "hip side of Los Feliz" articulate what the character finds interesting or "hip". Why doesn't she describe Rob or how he treats Noel. I felt that there were so many characters but all the relationships were obvious stereotypes. That leads me to the boob assesment. Every time a female was put down it was because she was dumb and with implants. There are a lot of smart woman out their with plastc surgery, a lot of woman who will be reading this if it becomes a novel and you are flat out insulting them. Judging by the narrative which is hard to separte from the author's point of view sometimes it seems that one might be inclined to think, "well that kind of girl wouldn't read my book because she is stupid." Honestly, I hate criticizing and I know I am being a little harsh but I am trying to give a genuine critique. I am not being over sensative when saying that I was offended by this stereotype and I don't even have implants. Maybe this device would work in a film, there could be several shots of buxom blonde babes but it is hard to communicate through the page. And why is the narrator attacking the starving drummer twice! "Grocery shoppers do not ask (to) borrow your money and are rarely the drummer for a defunct West Hollywood rock band...Plasticene women with adding machine hearts and deep-freeze libidos are little more than money-mooching drummers or cardboard cutouts with breasts." Noel is an artist and I am sure she is no Cindy Sherman so I am guessing that she is struggling financially as well so why would the narrator make a point of criticizing broke artists and equating them with losers. By this rational Noel is a loser, but wait no she can't be because she moved to L.A therefore her blood is not tainted and fakeness she does not ooze from her pores.
The premise is that the only ones who date in L.A are desperate or insane yet her two characters who are applauded for their strenght and are representations of "real" vrs phony people prescribe to the crazy dating scene.

I just realized that it is impossible to get a signal when it rains unless I hold Steven's laptop sideways. So some of these entries might/ will appear twice but I am fed up and I still can't figure out how to do the email me button and Steven Hall just tried to censure me in addition to throwing trash in my room! UNBEARABLE ANGST, ALAS HO IS ME. owwwwww Steven Hall just pegged me in the face with a hardede unripe beast of a grape and it burst in a fury of pain, owwwwww he threw another one, and it was wet...gross he spit on it. Boys and girls, megan hoover stay away from Steven Hall

Why don't I listen in class, I never know if I am suppose to print out my response to the reading or type it on this thing, this blog, this "space". ok screw it, I am not gonna beg Steven Hall to print out my response, I am just gonna post it since I actually did the reading.
Response to: The little doll and her mechanical boy
I didn't want this story to end. I wanted to know what the little girl doll was looking at through the window. I don't know maybe it seems cheesy but I thought maybe the doll girl was watching the other child play outside. The mother's friend suggested that there was a neighborhood girl but she never surfaced. I thought that when the boy finally returned to the "real" world, the front porch he would meet a real friend. There were so many elements of mystery that were never solved. Why did the doll resemble the wives, why had no one mentioned her existence or discover her real name. I didn't really care for the ending because it reminisced the same feelings of detachment as the introduction. A really important point about this story is that there was a disturbence, an extreme urgency and intensity but the author manages to hook the readers without killing anyone. He toys with a conventional coming of age story until it reveals a clockwork orange.

Why don't I listen in class, I never know if I am suppose to print out my response to the reading or type it on this thing, this blog, this "space". ok screw it, I am not gonna beg Steven Hall to print out my response, I am just gonna post it since I actually did the reading.
Response to: The little doll and her mechanical boy
I didn't want this story to end. I wanted to know what the little girl doll was looking at through the window. I don't know maybe it seems cheesy but I thought maybe the doll girl was watching the other child play outside. The mother's friend suggested that there was a neighborhood girl but she never surfaced. I thought that when the boy finally returned to the "real" world, the front porch he would meet a real friend. There were so many elements of mystery that were never solved. Why did the doll resemble the wives, why had no one mentioned her existence or discover her real name. I didn't really care for the ending because it reminisced the same feelings of detachment as the introduction. A really important point about this story is that there was a disturbence, an extreme urgency and intensity but the author manages to hook the readers without killing anyone. He toys with a conventional coming of age story until it reveals a clockwork orange.

Monday, February 02, 2004

Famous quotes of the Night

kate: Are these famous?
andrewski: I think they are pretty famous

I have baguette all over me...Dammit it is in my pants-kachonie
I bought nail polish last night, finally we have nypd blue-steven "frosty" hall
What the hell is blogger-make ass
Yeah frosty-drewski
Um man in top hat seeks plain looking woman for mutual long term robotic hang gliding.-andrea
You look like a cray scientist-mandy kat
Mandy quack-kitty kate
quack-kittymandypants
now were all quacking on quack-katia
It smells bad-me
Gee I wonder why-Hall
Can anything be said in this living room without being on the blog?-ass.hall
Are we just living for the blog, working for the blog...I work hard for the blog-drewder
we are such blog slaves, blog sluts, blog whores-steven e andrew
sluggin for the bloggin-a.b again
I wish i could type faster-da kate

Sunday, February 01, 2004

For all those boys and Girls who don't know that this blog di la Katia was created to fufill a course requirement for mia classe di inglese, mi dispiace que tu hai devuto leggere i responsi. Andrew, Steven, Dance turn those frowns upside down, this said Wednesday the blog will return to light up our lives.
Love,
kitty Kat with no hair...meow

Response to Andrew Wessels- The End of the Line
I thought that this was a very promising story because of the setting. It reminded me of the play No Exit where the main characters are stuck in hell. I didn’t think that Andrew needed to incorporate that “the End of the Line airport did not resemble any other airport in existence” rather I wished that he elaborated the uniqueness with more details. Also I wanted him to expand on the other people working for the airline. He could easily incorporate physical characteristics especially for the woman behind the ticket desk. I was curious about the fashion of her uniform. Since the exterior description was so dark I wondered if the people’s clothing matched the green and red color scheme. I really liked how he incorporated the trivial fact of how much the Camel backpack would go for in the Camel catalog and that the traveler did not wear a Brooks Brothers suit. These nuances really added a third dimension to the story. Pages four through six relied heavily on dialogue to communicate the interactions but I wanted more descriptions of the characters mannerisms. I mean did the traveler fidget or tap his fingers anxiously? I felt that the piece ended prematurely. I liked that he finally accepted his fate but I wanted the narration to continue after the young man left the manager also maybe the narration should begin before the dialogue begins for the intro. Looking back on the beginning it was jarring not knowing who was talking. Regardless I liked the concept of this story and would enjoy reading a revised draft.